What Troubles You, Falco Lombardi?
by John Farragut
Summary: When Falco Lombardi begins to mysteriously shy away from his friends at Star Fox, they intervene and uncover a deadly, longstanding aspect of Falco's turbulent life. Extra chapter up, and the story has been updated. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1.**_

Through the desolate white brick halls of the Cornerian Defense Academy, a portly amphibian wandered and called out Falco's name. Time and again, the only response he received was his own discouraging echo. The gaping square windows, pelted with elliptical raindrops, led to a view of black skies and a few dull orange street lamps. Slippy Toad ran a hand up and down the front of his Doobie Brothers T-shirt by habit, and his globe-shaped eyes stared down every hall.

He stopped halfway down a dim corridor and pushed open a towering metal door. A stray basketball and a forgotten uniform lay in the faint beam of light poking through the opened door.

"Falco!" Slippy called into the darkness. _"Falco!"_

The voice bounced off the walls and decayed into a mess of echoes.

"Falco, where _are_ you?" Slippy mumbled as the door squeaked shut.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"--Yes, Fox. Slippy and I have searched for him all over the campus. And you haven't seen anything, either--Yes. I just left the library, and he's not there. None of his professors or friends know where he is--and I've checked with all of them for the third time. What if this is an emergency, Fox? What can be done?"

As Fox McCloud replied on the other end of the cellphone line, Krystal exhaled and ran her free hand through her Prussian-blue hair.

"You aren't responsible for him, Fox. Yes, it _shouldn't_ have happened, and maybe he has to work this out himself, but I get the sense that he isn't. I feel like--something dangerous is taking hold of him. I keep asking, 'Isn't God doing anything about this?'--I mean, I know He is, but it doesn't feel like it."

After hearing Fox reply, Krystal gave a discouraged goodbye and slid her cellphone back into her pants' left pocket.

_Pray continually, _she thought, quoting Fox's words. _Why do we, even though it seems that it's doing nothing?_

"Krystal."

A grown-up voice prompted Krystal to turn around. "Mr. Hare. Slippy. Did you both find anything?"

Peppy shook his head, his floppy ears wagging with each movement. "No. I don't think he's going to be easy to find after what happened this afternoon."

"It's been nine days since the terrorist attack. He's not camping out in the places we thought he'd be."

"Not a surprise. Falco probably thinks that whatever is bothering him has to be taken care of away from all of us."

"He's hiding something," said Krystal. "Falco's working through some things, but he's not resolving them."

"Maybe he can't," sighed Peppy, his eyes wandering back and forth.

Krystal leaned against the wall and scratched her shallow chin. "Come to think of it, there _was_ something unusual that _I_ noticed. A few days ago, back on _Great Fox,_ I only asked him _once_ if he finished setting up something with the computers. I asked one time too many, because he shouted 'Then why don't you help me get this freaking thing to work?'"

"Oh, yeah, I remember that," said Slippy, stifling a smile. "He--He didn't use 'freaking,' though."

As Krystal huffed and rolled her eyes, Peppy said, "I know it's hard, but we have to believe God is working this out in ways we can't understand right now."

"But what can _we_ do?" Slippy wondered.

"I doubt there's much we_ can_ do now."

"Yeah, but why is that?"

"Because--" Peppy hesitated, giving Slippy and Krystal a more direct look. "I had to fire him."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2.**_

Fox McCloud came to the porch of his home and slid his coat from his arms, his eyes trailing the abbreviation CDA knitted into the maroon fabric. After a moment, he paused and stared up at the night sky, his slender whiskers tossed by a moist breeze. A few stray clouds, the harbingers of a towering thunderstorm, drifted on high. Without making a sound, Fox watched the lightning leap across the sky above the city and tried to distract himself from the storm within.

_"Falco, please listen--"_

_"McCloud, don't start with me. You've been hounding me for the past week and a half--everybody has!--and I'm tired of it!"_

_"We're worried about you, Falco. You don't even say anything to us anymore. We've wanted to get out and play softball with you, but you never show up."_

_"I say stuff to you! We relay information during our missions!"_

_"You know what I mean!" argued Fox with a low growl._

_"Yeah, and I'm not gonna waste my time talking about it. You're about to start up your whole psychoanalysis again, and I'm fed up with it."_

_"Falco, I just want to help you!"_

_"Yeah, right! Let's just face it: You want to keep total control over the Star Fox team--including how we live our lives!"_

_"That's not true."_

_"Then what do you want from me?"_

_"I know about what happened to you last week--that huge office bombing in Oberon. You saw a fifty-story building explode right in front of you in a ball of fire. It's almost impossible to--"_

_"I don't want to hear it!" blurted Falco, pointing a thumb back at himself. "Let me deal with it!"_

_"You're not dealing with it. You're stuffing it inside."_

_As Falco clenched a fist, he inhaled a deep breath and snarled, "You have your way of coping. I have mine. Why don't you actually help me instead of giving me all your religious crap? I've heard all this garbage about the fires of hell for those who are wicked, but that's a load of bull! Don't you get it? I don't believe in God!" _

_"But what you're believing is only--"_

_"Don't get all preachy, McCloud! You don't know anything about what's going on with me. Maybe you'd get a better idea if you'd think back to the time when your mother died in Andross's car bomb."_

_The instant Falco turned to walk away, Fox's fist landed squarely in Falco's side. He cried out and grabbed his hip as Fox thrust him into the corner of the wall._

_"Don't you DARE bring up my mother's death like that!" he screamed at the top of his lungs._

_"I'm sorry! I didn't--"_

_"Shut up!" Fox roared, slapping Falco across the head. "I don't care if you think you're some hotshot here! I don't care what kind of crap you're going through! You don't have ANY right to talk that way to me! Do you understand me?!"_

_"Fox, I said I--I didn't mean it!"_

_"Just like you didn't mean it all the other times you said it?!"_

_"I--I--" He stared right into Fox's raging eyes, any and all responses escaping him. _

_Fox let go of Falco's uniform and took a step back, clenching his whitened knuckles._

_"You know, Falco?" he shouted, his face screaming of pure rage. "You and your smart mouth have done enough damage! I don't know why I've held my tongue this long, because I knew you were never going to change!"_

_"Holy crap! You finally discovered that? You're the one who tried to force me into changing!" _

_"What?! Since when did I--"_

_"Don't say another word to me, Fox McCloud! Not another freakin' word! I'd like it if you and Peppy and all of your friends would just get the hell out of my life!"_

A merciless crack of thunder shattered the voices playing inside Fox's mind. The next thing he knew, his emotions began to burst forward. His stomach churned with a sickening gurgle, and large tears streamed down his contorted face. His paws trembled as he trudged into his darkened home.

Once the door clicked shut, he lost total control of his body and collapsed to the floor. For what seemed to be an eternity, he sobbed as his whole body shook. Unwelcome memories of his mother's death rushed into him, mixing with the thoughts of his fury at Falco.

Before he knew it, he lost all strength left to cry, and for a while, he lay curled in a ball on the carpet. As he wiped the tears from his soaked eyes, he pulled out his cellphone and felt around the keypad.

"1-414-213-56237," he repeated. _Please pick up, Falco. Don't go to voice mail. _

_"Hey, it's Falco. Leave a message."_

On cue, Fox shut his phone with a stubborn huff.

_Leave another. _The voice whispered to him in a nerve-jarring crack of thunder.

"Huh?"

_Leave another._

"All right," Fox sighed, redialing the number. "I'll leave another."

_"Hey, it's Falco. Leave a message." _

"Falco, please don't delete this. Look, I-I don't care about what happened earlier. I don't even know what all you're going through, but I want to talk to you. You're my friend--right? If you hear me, please pick up." After a pause, Fox felt his heart breaking some more. "Please, my friend," he pleaded, trying not to cry again. "Just--leave a message so I know you're all right."

After Fox closed up his cellphone once more, he pried himself off the floor and turned on the lights inside his home. His thoughts became words, which came as whispers from his mouth.

_God, I don't know what I'm going to do. I lost one of my best friends. Why can't I let this go? Why did it have to get so stupid?_

A familiar melody snapped Fox out of his trance. It was his cellphone's ringtone. Fox flinched and, in less than the blink of an eye, snatched his cellphone out of his pocket.

"Falco!"

_"Whoa, that was fast," _piped the voice on the other end of the line. _"You're getting good at that."_

"Slippy? What are you doing?"

_"I'm still down at the Academy, which is why I called. I found something in Falco's locker that you need to see."_

_"_What are you doing in Falco's locker?"

_"I'm fixing the door hinges for all the men's lockers while I wait for my car to get picked up. Just get your phone ready because I'm sending you a photo."_

With ease, Fox punched in a series of numbers on his phone's glowing keypad. In the split second the image appeared on the screen, Fox's body felt like a block of lead. The object's distinctive shape and deep color sent tremors rushing through his heart.

"Oh, dear Lord."

_"Hey, Fox, you still there?" _Slippy squeaked.

"Yeah, I'm here. I didn't want to think it, but I--I should have known. But, for all we know, it might not mean anything. I mean, it-it's not opened or anything--I don't think."

"_What are you going to do?"_

"Have you told Peppy about this?"

_"No. He said that he already knew--at least, I'm sure he said that."_

"I doubt it. He knows how that bombing affected Falco, but he doesn't know how Falco's trying to cope with it! Slippy, talk to Peppy about this. We can't keep him in the dark. I'm going to try and find Falco!"

"_Well, okay, but Peppy's already--"_

Nothing else said, Fox closed up his phone and stuffed it into his left pocket. He yanked his keys out of his other pocket and leapt out through the door just as a frigid rain began to fall upon the covered porch.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3.**_

"Man, Fox, I hate when you hang up on me," sighed Slippy, staring at his cellphone. After a pause, he exited the men's locker room and shuffled down a hall toward the lobby, still bewildered by the object sitting inside Falco's locker. Any reasonable explanation stood miles away from his grasp, but the dread lingered still as a warbling beeping threw Slippy from his train of thought.

"What the--? It's--'2-236-067-97749.' That--wait. That's Katt Monroe! Katt, what's up?"

_"Slippy, thank God you picked up!"_

To Slippy's surprise, the choleric, snappy voice on the other end of the line sounded broken, carrying a tone of despair.

"What--what's going on? Is everything all right?"

_"I've been trying to get in touch with everyone else, but I can't reach them," _Katt replied. _"And Falco hasn't come home yet!"_

"Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?"

_"No. I'm over at his apartment."_

"But he never lets anyone go over there."

_"He gave me that emergency key just in case. I--I was going to the fridge to get a glass of water, and I went to get a glass out of one of the cabinets. I found--t-twelve--" _Katt sobbed, struggling to form coherent words.

"What is it?" asked Slippy. "What did you find?"

Katt took in a deep breath and said, _"Twelve opened bottles of liquor. One of them has a receipt taped to it. Slippy, he bought all this three weeks ago, and he's drunk halfway through it."_

With a breath, Slippy's mouth fell open. He felt his heart tremoring, spreading an acidic numbness through him.

_"Hello?" _asked Katt. _"Slippy?"_

"I'm--I'm still here," he droned, snapping out of his trance.

_"I didn't know about this. I never even guessed! Slippy, what can we do?"_

"I don't know. Listen, do you know where Falco hangs out these days?"

_"No. He always says he's 'just hanging with the guys.' He doesn't tell me where he goes."_

_"_And when you two go out on a date, he doesn't order anything like beer or--or wine?"

_"No. I just--I--I never had any idea! Why would he do this? What happened to him?"_

"It's a long story. Look, we're going to do everything we can to help him, but we have to find him. Just hang in there, all right?"

_"Okay. Okay, thank you, Slippy. You're a good friend. I'll stay here and keep trying to call him."_

"You don't have to do that. I'll track him down and keep you posted."

Katt hung up with a thank-you and a settled goodbye, leaving Slippy's eyes wide and mouth agape.

"All right. I still hate to do this, but Falco, you aren't leaving me any choice."

Slippy reached into his satchel and pulled out a large device, pressing the touch screen's keyboard. A few button presses and password confirmations later, it showed the entire map of Corneria City. After a few seconds, the device beeped twice, showing a blinking blue dot marked 295-SNH-7H as it moved along the dense grid.

"Showtime."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4.**_

Once again, the inescapable ringtone on Fox's cellphone began to play. In response, Fox pulled over to the shoulder of the road, the car's tires splashing into the puddling rainwater. By the time he rolled his car along the flooding curb, he answered his phone.

_"Hey, Fox, are you on the corner of Anderson and Pullman?" _asked Slippy in response.

"Uh--yeah, I am. Why?"

_"Good. My new GPS is working. Listen, I used it to hunt down Falco_. _He's headed north on Fichina Boulevard now."_

"What's on Fichina?"

_"I don't know. Think of--wait. He's turning onto Pullman. He's heading toward you, going east." _

"I've got my eyes peeled," replied Fox. "Thanks, Slippy. Keep me posted."

The line fell silent, and Fox inserted a small earbud into his left ear. He clipped a microphone onto the collar of his shirt and thought, _From_ _Fichina to Pullman? If I didn't know better, I'd think Falco's coming from the Academy._

After signaling and glancing over his shoulder, Fox drove back onto the lane and signaled a right-hand turn at the stop sign.

_God, I don't know whether I'm being stupid or just stone-crazy, _thought Fox in prayer. _I'm tracking down my friend who has gone out of his way to avoid us, and for all I know, he could be under the influence. _

"There he is," he blurted into the microphone. "Slippy, his car just passed me, and I'm headed east on Pullman. Where's Falco now?"

_"He's staying on this road. Looks like you're about a hundred feet behind him. From what I see on satellite, you're running into some heavy rain, so give yourself about fifteen feet for every ten miles per hour you go."_

Fox chuckled and half-smiled. "I appreciate that, OnStar."

_"Well, actually, OnStar is used for a lot of things ranging from heart attacks to when you lock your--"_

"Would you just pay attention to that device of yours? I just lost him."

_"He swung a left onto Martis, heading north."_

Fox peered through the rain-battered windshield. "Martis. Found it. I'm turning left now."

Fox gave the car a controlled swerve, splashing up rainwater as he slid through the turn. No cars moved anywhere along the road; the gloomy fluorescent lights from the street's worn buildings reflected off the pools of rainwater.

"Slippy, there's no one headed north on this street."

_"Just keep going until you reach the 2700 block," _mumbled Slippy._ "Then stop at building 2774."_

"All right. But--what's wrong? What's with the tone in your voice all of a sudden?"

_"Well--I was going to wait to tell you until you stopped your car, but--there are at least six bars in that area. One of them is a total dump."_

"Whatever. I'll get him out of there and get him back to his house. You can use your device to find where he lives, right?"

_"That might not be a good idea, Fox." _After a sigh, Slippy continued, with a more burdened tone of voice,_ "Katt Monroe called. She has that emergency key to get into Falco's apartment. She went over, thinking there was an emergency. I think she was right. Fox, listen: Katt found a dozen bottles of liquor over there."_

"Not too much of a surprise. He's probably had it for months."

"_Not until you hear this. She found a receipt taped to one of the bottles. Falco bought all that booze three weeks back, and he's used up over half of it."_

In response, Fox's stomach plummeted. "What?"

_"I wanted to wait for the right time to tell you, but I'm still trying to take this whole thing in. Look, you'll have to take him back to your house. It's a lot closer than his apartment complex. And--Fox, there's something else."_

"What is it?"

_"Peppy knows about that bottle in his locker. He found it a few hours ago. Fox, Falco was fired. He's not with the team anymore."_

"What?"

_"Yeah, Krys and I just heard about it."_

In response, Fox let out a weighty sigh and shook his head in dismay. "That's--just not possible."

_"Fox, I had a feeling this was bad--but I had no idea it was like this. What do you think you're going to say to him when you find him?"_

But he didn't reply. Without looking back, he pulled into the parking lot of the sports bar and searched for a place to park. Every other moment, his eyes fell back to the building before him. The musty wooden beams and warped window wells drenched in the pouring rain gave the place a grungy feel. Fox's face sagged at the dreary sight.

_"I don't like this, Fox. I just don't like this. It sounds dangerous. Wasn't it your dad who said, 'Never give up. Trust your instincts'?"_

"Yeah. And my instincts keep lining up with something else he said to me."

_"What?"_

"'God and His words triumph over discomfort and fear.'"

_"You think that's what God's telling you?"_

"Better than that, Slip. He couldn't have made those words any more clear."

He then took off his earpiece and dashed into the pouring rain.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5.**_

With his hood shielding his face, Fox made his way to the plate-glass doors of the dilapidated sports bar and looked inside. When he wiped the droplets away with the sleeve of his coat, they coalesced and left an irregular film of water on the door, blurring his view of the inside.

After a few minutes of watching to no avail, Fox entered the scene and pushed his hood back. Right away, the combination of blaring music and incessant sports announcers almost drove his fingers into his sandy-colored ears. Everywhere he looked, grime pervaded the place. Around every corner, the stench of alcohol overwhelmed him. People of all races and cultures clutched various drinks, and while a handful of Cornerians laughed and grinned, the rest of the animals, addicts for years too many, slouched over and hid their sickly faces as if they were waiting for their moment of death. The sight caused Fox's eyes to take on a deeper gleam of hopelessness.

_Keep going, Fox, _he thought to himself._ Falco's probably in the restroom._

He took in a breath and made his way through the labyrinth of filthy tables. The people in the bar, most of them dressed in tattered T-shirts and faded jeans, glared at the uniformed Cornerian. But he never gave them a glance.

The instant he entered the men's room, he took in a breath of a putrid stench, his stomach convulsing in violent response. Swallowing hard and shifting his thoughts elsewhere kept him from vomiting across the tiled floor. He felt bile bubble in the back of his throat as he dashed from the restroom.

Once outside the building, Fox inhaled the moisture-laden air and felt its effects settle his stomach. The sounds of pelting rain and crackling thunder soothed his unsettled soul and provided a welcome change from the clamorous noise inside.

_I still can't believe that Falco might be hanging out in that--that--dump! If he's not inside, where could he have gone? _As his eyes wandered, he thought, _I'd better call Slippy back. Must have been a false alarm._

As Fox stared at the 2700 block, his motions slowed, and his hand dropped his phone back into a jeans pocket. He fixed his gaze ahead and moved forward. Falco's navy-blue Lexus sat just a few yards away in front of another bar, marked by towering plate-glass windows and gloomy fluorescent lighting.

Fox sloshed across the flooding pavement and toward the bar, his sights remaining fixated ahead. When Fox caught a better view of Lylat's former ace pilot, Fox clasped a hand over his muzzle. The whites of Falco's ocean-blue eyes were bloodshot, his whole body slumped over in a drunken stupor. His head leaned on his right hand, which blocked his view of the window, and his eyes peered straight at the vodka in his other hand.

Out of dwindling courage, Fox backed out of sight and grabbed his quivering knees. _He looks just like the people in that bar back there, _he thought.

Just as Fox turned toward his car, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Falco slid from the table and began a shouting match with the waiter, a pudgy vulture with baggy eyes and a continuous scowl. The noise of the arguing filtered through the pouring rain to Fox's ears.

_"I'm not lettin' you get another drink! Finish what you've got and go!"_

_"You don't tell me what to do!" _Falco slurred, wobbling in his footsteps.

_"Buddy, if you even think of taking another step closer, I'm callin' the cops on you!"_

As Falco staggered toward the counter, he warped his face into a beastly look and shouted several curses at the top of his voice. When Falco lunged over the counter, the waiter hurled a fist into Falco's stomach and yanked the telephone off its receiver.

"Put the phone down!" Fox roared. "Put it_ down!!"_

"What the _hell?!"_ exclaimed the waiter. "Let me guess. An imitation of Jack _Bauer?"_

Before Fox replied, a blue hand snatched the steel-edged counter. "Heya, McCloud." After letting out a toxic belch, Falco mumbled a curse and snickered, "Never thought I'd find a bigshot like _you_ in here."

"Don't call the police," Fox demanded to the waiter. "This guy's my friend."

"Your friend? _Now _I've heard everything! You want me to call the cops on you, too?"

"Buddy, I _am _the police. Let me take care of this."

"Okay, then, if you're gonna arrest him, do it now! Hell, you should have heard this guy cuss me out. He taught me some new words tonight, but that's nothin' compared to the tab he rang up."

The scowling waiter tore a slip of paper from the cash register and passed the paper to Fox. Once his eyes met the amount of money listed, he grasped the counter to keep himself from collapsing.

"That's right, Agent Bauer. This is what he spent in the past five hours! He's not helpin' my business anymore! He's been here every night for two weeks, festering and scaring away my customers! Another drink, and he'll turn my place into a health code violation."

"I told you, Murdoc," bumbled Falco like an angry hornet, "I'm _fine."_

"You're _fine?_ Pal, it was one thing when I felt sorry for you and all. And it was another thing lettin' you try and sort your problems out. But, when you blow up at me because I'm tellin' youse that you're drivin' my business into the dirt, that crosses the line! And do I have to tell you again that you look like you've been hit by a bus or somethin'? Let this guy take you home and keep you _out _of here--for _good!"_

"What?"

"Come on, Falco. I'm taking you back to my house," urged Fox, grabbing his incoherent comrade by the arm. "Sir, would you mind helping me get him to my car."

"With pleasure," scoffed Murdoc.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6.**_

The night that followed found Fox McCloud tossing in bed. The minutes dragged by, the images of Falco under the influence fermenting in his mind. The reality of Falco's problem sunk ever deeper, and the incidents at both bars haunted Fox's dreams and turned them into pulse-pounding nightmares.

A quarter past midnight, Fox jolted awake after such a nightmare; just hours before, Fox kept wondering how horrific Falco's hangover would become. In years past, Fox listened to his father tell him horror stories about alcohol addiction; every mention of the vomit, of the headaches, of the insufferable heartaches, and of the disease and death--all of it terrified him and, in the middle of that turbulent night, culminated in another nightmare.

Without warning, Fox started awake from the nightmare when Falco exploded from the guest room and charged to the bathroom. The toilet lids slammed open, and Falco began vomiting. The sound and the images that coursed through Fox's mind caused him to curl himself into a ball and try to block out the disturbing noise. But, it didn't stop. With every second that crawled past, Falco kept losing his life, hurling it into the toilet.

_God, I can't handle this! _Fox prayed, clenching his teeth in desperation. _I can't handle this! I'm so scared. I'm losing a best friend! What am I supposed to do now? I don't feel at all brave. I feel like a coward. You said that You'd always be with us during times of trouble. What happened?_

The next thing he knew, a golden ray of morning sun poked through his ivory-white curtains and tickled his whiskers. After a pause, he rose from his bed and trudged toward the living room, his heart beating like a jackhammer. When he entered the room, his heart plummeted at the sight of Falco slumped over with his head buried in his hands.

"Oh, terrific," droned Falco, still staring into his hands. "Look, I don't want any of your crap about last night, and I don't want a lecture on why I shouldn't drink. I just need a ride back to my car."

"No. We need to talk."

"I can't talk. I feel like someone stuck my head next to a couple of jackhammers."

"Falco, I--I know I hurt you yesterday--with my hands and with my words. I was wrong to blow up at you and then turn around and keep doing it. I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am."

"You're bringing up that crap _now?"_ snarled Falco in a monotonous voice. With a sigh, he tapped his fingers against his knee and leaned his head forward so that it rest upon his folding arms. "I got your phone message."

"Hmm?"

"The one you left last night." Falco looked back up at Fox and added, "It's okay, McCloud. What happened--well, it happened. I'm okay. We're still pals. Right?"

Fox nodded. "We're still going to talk about this, Falco."

"Okay, okay--_fine._ Look, I told you, McCloud. You have your own way of coping. You sing ninety thousand hymns a day and do all that--and I try and forget my troubles."

"Looks more like you're adding them on. Falco, have you even looked at yourself in the mirror?"

"You're gonna give me that jazz? I'm not as bad as I look, all right?"

"No? Falco, I've never seen you like this. One week, you're dressed in your fighting armor with a headset on, and then the next week, you look like you're about to drop dead! How long have you been binge drinking, Falco?"

With a shake of his head, Falco groaned, "I started five years ago--after I turned twenty-one. Every time I got a weekend off, I drank and had a good time. I'd have the whole weekend to recover so no one at Star Fox would know what I did. And, hell--it worked! No one really had a clue. I thought since I drank a little--okay, a _lot_, but not as much as my other friends--I was strong. I thoughtI was. I thought I could quit anytime. But then it got to a point--where that buzz wasn't enough. I knew it wouldn't do any good, but I kept pushing it. And now it's what? Five years later, and I can't quit. I'm stuck with what I've got in the last leg of my sham of a life."

"Sham of a _life?"_ shouted Fox, furrowing his face. "How can you forget all you do with Star Fox?"

"What I _used _to doMcCloud. Peppy gave me a call last night. Said someone found that booze in my locker down at the Academy. He told me I was fired, even though I never opened the thing--but he could tell I smuggled it in. It all--it sounds bad, but I'm glad he found out. Saves me the hassle of havin' to break it to him myself. I know it all sounds bad, but it's--it's _good."_ Falco paused. "What's with _you, _McCloud? You look like you're gonna cry. "

"Why shouldn't I?" Fox shouted. "I can't believe what I'm looking at! I'm watching one of my best friends lose everything to a stupid chemical!"

Falco geared up to reply, but instead cried out and clutched his temples. A throbbing pulse shot through his head and caused his stomach to quiver in acidic pain.

"Don't bother, McCloud. I'm not going to take this."

"Falco, you don't understand. Come on, Falco, listen to me!" Fox shook him by the shoulders and ordered, "Look at me! Drinking can't get you through anything. You said it's the only thing that can get you through life, but it can't! Drinking can't help you. It can't help anyone! It cannot answer any problems you have, Falco. None!"

"I _know!!" _he screamed. "I _know! _All right?! I know it can't help me. I know it's not doing any good! Every time I take a drink from the bottle, I think about all the people I've failed! I think about how _I've_ failed! I hate my _life!_ I've lost my job, everyone I care about hates me--and look at me! I'm a wreck! I can't face up to it! I can't look in the mirror and face it! I can't get out of this, even if I wanted to!"

With a soft sigh, Fox said, "Falco, I know you're in a lot of pain now. You've been dealing with a lot of hard stuff! But--you're not handling it right, and you're not looking at God the right way. You said that God hates you; but, Falco, nothing could be further from the truth! He's been calling out to you all this time, even during your worst binges."

"Fox, you don't understand. Drinking is all I have left. It's the only thing that can get me through this stupid life."

"No, it isn't! Do you know what happens to people who sell their lives to alcohol? _Do _you? Remember that kids' class you taught? The junior high students? You went on overtime just telling them how bad it is to be involved in alcohol! You told them! Now, let me tell _you!" _

Falco groaned as Fox continued, "Over half of all violent crimes are caused by people under the influence! Every three minutes on this planet, someone dies from an accident involving drunken driving. Drinking to forget your problems is nothing but a death wish, and this whole escape message that you've been playing to yourself is nothing but a damned _lie!"_

Falco raised his head from his hands and peered straight at Fox. The two stared at each other without the slightest noise or movement. Their shallow breaths sounded like hurricane winds penetrating the thickening atmosphere.

"I can't make you understand, McCloud."

In a fraction of a second, a burst of energy exploded through him, propelling him toward the front door. Falco plastered his hands around the brass doorknob and jerked it with all his might.

"Agh-h-h! Get off me!" he blurted, wiggling and squirming. "Let go of my pants!"

"You're not in any shape to be running all over town! You need to see a doctor!"

"Get a clue, Fox! And get your fingers out of my belt loops!"

"Not until you let go of the doorknob!"

"Fine, McCloud. It's your call."

In the twitch of a bloodshot eye, he spun around, let out a cry, and hurled a tensed hand toward Fox's belly. Falco's left leg landed in the back of Fox's legs, sending Fox crashing to the floor.

"It's been nice knowing you, McCloud," Falco droned, making his way to the counter. He snatched Fox's keys into hand and dashed out the open door, leaving Fox to grunt in pain and ponder eight simple words.

_I should never have taught him that move._


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7.**_

Hung over and incoherent, Falco skidded around a turn as he clung to the last of his energy. His bleary eyes peered at the rising speedometer needle and squinted in confusion. It had to be toward 30 or 40--at least, it looked like one of the two.

The screams of children and parents leaping out of his way failed to penetrate the soundproofed windows. More than once did Falco swerve the Camry within a hair's breadth of an innocent bystander. But his face showed no concern over placing the lives of his fellow Cornerians in jeopardy; nor did it show regret toward the fact that he attacked his friend, stole his car, and turned it into a weapon in motion.

Soon after turning onto a desolate road, he glanced at the approaching landscape. Apartment complexes of all color schemes and sizes lay throughout the foothills. Falco pushed the gas pedal close to the floor of the car, and soon, the speedometer needle rose past the _80_ mark.

"Whoa. Watch out. Don't want to get a ticket," he mumbled as he passed a white sign with the number _45._

"Another few miles to go so I can get rid of this--wait a second."

He squinted through bleary eyes at the rear-view mirror and saw a patch of blue and white blaze around the corner. Three brass-colored words coming into view showed three words: Cornerian Defense Forces.

With a loud grunt, he pushed the accelerator to the floor and clutched the steering wheel. Within seconds, the speedometer needle flew all the way to the end of the dial. The car engine roared as the Camry barreled down the street. With a renewed energy rushing through him, Falco threw his head into the air and let out a jeering laugh.

After fetching a last look back at the pursuing squad car, his stomach twisted in a knot. At once, he recognized the two Cornerians trailing him. He muttered their names under his breath as his panicking eyes dashed to and fro.

An orange blur passed the corner of Falco's eye and screamed a silent warning. "ROAD CLOSED 1000 FEET AHEAD."

"Damn it!" he cried. In an instant, his blood-streaked eyes brightened; he remembered another move from his days with Star Fox and planned to compensate with using his car instead of a supersonic aircraft. At the sound of the squad car's horns blaring, he stomped his foot into the floor and thrust the steering wheel around, his sights set on the road's opposite lane.

Then everything went blank.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8.**_

The moment the squad car slowed to a halt, a loud _SMASH _tore through the airFox's car careened sideways into a downed power pole--with Falco sandwiched in a death crush between two pancaked car doors. Up and down the road, car parts lay scattered, mangled beyond recognition.

The panting Cornerians inside the squad car stared with open mouths. Bill Grey snatched a hand radio receiver into a meaty paw and pressed the button as he looked on. "Sergeant, this is 2-2," he drawled. "We have a Code 11, State Route 71 northbound at the road closure. We need medical assistance immediately."

_"Copy, 2-2. We'll get somebody down there. Do you have a 20 on the driver?"_

"Yeah. It's Falco Lombardi."

_"Falco Lombardi?" _The female voice paused. _"All right, an EMT's on its way, Bill."_

The hound sighed and replied into the radio as he and Slippy slid from the car.

"I can't believe this," panted Bill, gawking at the smashed mass of metal as he and Slippy tiptoed through the shattered glass. "Where are the construction teams? Why aren't they getting this power pole out of the road?"

Slippy shook his head, unable to construct an answer.

"Oh, man, Falco," Bill drawled. "Buddy, can you hear me?" he asked. He maneuvered his paw through the razor-edged glass of the window's jagged remains and pressed two fingers underneath Falco's beak.

"Hang in there, Falc," Bill urged. "Help's on the way."

"How does it look like he's doing?"

Bill's canine face showed a look of distress. "I can't find much of a pulse out of him. Man, how'd he get in this mess, Slip? What was he doing driving Fox's car?"

"I don't want to believe it, but--I'm wondering if he stole it."

"Stole it? _Falco?"_

"His Lexus was still at that bar! If he was stoned drunk, Fox had to give him a ride!"

"Fox?"

"Yeah! He and I tracked Falco down." Slippy paused. "Hang on. I feel a little warm. Do you?"

"Slip, look!" blurted Bill, pointing to the back of the car. "The trunk's on fire!"

"Come on!" ordered Slippy. "We can pry this door open."

"What about the EMT?"

"They're not going to make it in time! Come on!"

They leapt toward the distorted driver's door and clutched the window well, pulling and straining until their joints screamed. They could hear the door creaking free from its hinges. With every jerk, twisted metal and jagged edges of glass cut deeper into their flesh.

They looked over their shoulders and saw towering flames belching boiling black smoke from the back. The licking flames snapped and lunged into the sky as the smoke clogged their lungs.

"Slippy!" coughed Bill, the sweat upon his forehead shimmering in the light of the inferno. "Listen to that! The fuel tank's about to blow!"

"The fire's getting too close! Push the driver's seat away! We have to make a clear path out of here! I'll get Falco!"

Bill nodded and thrust his meaty body into the seat, only to be reflected toward the steering column behind him.

"Dang thing's _stuck!" _he cried, shoving his foot into the seat. With a loud snap, the seat broke free and tumbled backward into the inferno.

"All right! I've got him! Let's go!"

They wove between the sawtoothed edges of the metal and began to taste breezes of fresh air within the smoke. A loud cry stopped Slippy in his tracks as he whirled around and saw a tear in Bill's jeans. Blood oozed down his leg as he yelped, "Keep going! I'm okay!"

Bill hobbled from the wreckage, fighting back the gurgling nausea that swept through him in waves of sweat. Slippy caught him as he knelt over, and the amphibian let out a hoarse cough.

"Whew," coughed Bill, taking off his outer shirt and wrapping it around a marred forearm. He dug his foot out of his left shoe and wrapped his sock around the gash along his leg. He and Slippy caught their gagging breath as they inhaled the fresh air. Behind them, the roaring noise erupted.

Once the inferno melted through the lining of the gas tank, three plastic jugs vaporized in a mushrooming fireball. The noise rocked the ground and hurled car parts and shattered glass into the sky. Bill and Slippy toppled like bowling pins and covered their heads just as a mangled car door rained upon them.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9.**_

"Fox McCloud," greeted a doctor, stepping inside the lobby of the air base's hospital. The blue jay extended a gentle hand and added, "I'd know that face from a mile away."

Fox stood up and shook the doctor's hand. "Dr. Herzog, I can't thank you enough for what you did for my friends. How are they doing?"

"Well, the technicians and doctors couldn't believe what they saw--and this is good news. Both Bill and Slippy were administered a few immunizations because of the nature of their injuries, and they'll have a lot of stitches for a while. But no one has any fractures or life-threatening injuries."

"Incredible," sighed Fox in stunned relief. "And what about Falco? How's his condition?"

"There's the bad news. He's still unconscious, and we don't know why. We ran a variety of tests on his body, and as his internist, I can't guarantee his survival if he doesn't quit drinking."

"Is his case really severe? He told me he had been drinking for only five years."

"I've been in this profession for twenty-seven years, and I have seen many, many cases of severe alcoholism in people just in their twenties, but I don't remember seeing a bingeing case as bad as this," the doctor replied, passing a slim file to Fox. "This will give you a better idea of how much damage has been done."

"Thanks, Doctor," replied Fox, taking the file in hand. As he pored over the papers, the message amid the medical language spoke volumes. His eyes bulged at the sight of the first page. "Man. It's like crashing into that power pole might have saved his life for the last time." Fox passed the folder back to the doctor and asked, "May I see him, John?"

"Of course you may. Let me take you to his room."

As the doctor led Fox through a series of taupe halls, Fox followed him and glanced at the bronze-coated numbers screwed into the doors.

"Doctor, is it all right if I talk to him about this?"

"Actually, that would be the best thing you could do for him now," Herzog replied. "If he hears your voice--or the voice of someone close to him--he might come out of his coma. Aural stimulation is effective in many cases like this. I've been in this business for twenty-seven years, and I've seen many success stories."

_I hope so, _thought Fox. _Or, after all the grief I gave him, my voice could keep him from responding. If only Katt were here! Or even Krystal. She could see what's going on in Falco's mind._

"Here we are," said the doctor, motioning to his right-hand side. "You'll be able to speak to him before a nurse comes in to test him again."

He pushed down on the door handle and feathered the door open. In a flash, the doctor whirled around and yanked the nearby phone from its receiver. "This is Herzog in 115 West! We need Pratchett in here now! Repeat, we need Pratchett in here now!"

The doctor then slammed the phone into its receiver and sped down the hall. Fox stayed behind, standing with a numb look on his face.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10.**_

_"...No one saw anything happen, but the only reasonable explanation is that he got out through a window."_

Her hands trembling, Katt Monroe tried to stay strong as Fox explained the situation. After spending a sleepless night in Falco's vacant apartment, she started awake to her cellphone ringing and leapt from the couch to answer the call. Right when she heard Fox's voice, she sensed the discouragement he tried to mask.

_"We're trying to find him now, but it's not looking good."_

"How did Falco even get past the hospital staff? Did he just pretend like he was unconscious?"

_"We don't know what all happened, but--Katt, I don't know how to say this--if he gets to his apartment, he could wind up killing himself."_

"I--I know. I'll talk to him. He might listen to me."

_"I won't leave you in that kind of position, Katt. Falco is different under the influence. He's almost a monster. You heard what he did at that bar last night."_

"I know, but I--"

Katt tried to finish, but her tears came, and she struggled to fight back sobs. But, her temperament didn't let it go on. She squared her shoulders and spoke with confidence, "Fox, I can't just stand by and let him kill himself. I love him, and I know you love him, too. He's our friend. We can't let a friend fall apart like this."

A muffled sigh drifted through to the other end of the line.

_"All right, Katt. Krystal and Bill and Slippy are on their way over. I'll be over soon."_

Katt thanked Fox and said her goodbye--just as she heard a pair of male voices chattering outside. She moved toward the window and peeked her broad feline head through the narrow opening between the curtains.

_He took a cab, _Katt thought to herself. _God, I need You now. I'm begging you--get through to him somehow, because I don't know if I can!_

As she heard Falco make his way up the stairs, she stepped away from the door. She heard her heart beating and felt her knees shaking as a set of keys jingled and the door opened with a soft click.

"Falco," sighed Katt, embracing Falco. In response, Falco's face sagged, and his arms fell around Katt's.

"I'm glad you're home," she breathed. "I've been waiting all night for you."

"Why?"

"Because--I didn't know what was going on. I hadn't heard from you in weeks, and I was getting worried."

Falco held in a breath and glanced to and fro. "You found out."

"That's not why I came here. Everybody's been worried--so was I."

"Katt, don't play games with me."

In response, Katt let go of Falco's arms and took a step back.

"I'm not playing games with you," she replied.

"When did you find out about me?"

"Last night. I found that stash in the kitchen. I was just going to get some juice; I didn't know what you had in there."

Without hesitation, Falco pointed a finger and droned in a raised voice, "You should never have come here, Katt."

"Well, I did, and I'm still here, and that's _that!" _

Falco's arm fell to his side. With a cold chuckle, he mocked, "That's the Katt Monroe we all love. Snappy, stubborn, loudmouthed. Everything I love in you. Get out of my way."

"No."

A corner of Falco's mouth turned upward in a snarl. "What?"

"I'm not letting you kill yourself, Falco. You'll have to go through me."

"It's my life, Katt. I'm in control. _Move._"

With a stubborn glare, Katt shook her head and set her face like a stone.

"Katt, don't force me to do something else I'll regret! _MOVE!"_

"No!"

In the seconds that inched by, Falco peered into Katt's navy blue eyes and saw his life reflected back at him. The images overwhelmed him even after he took his gaze away from Katt. With all his mental power, he tried in vain to blot the images from his mind. His body kept screaming to him, _Get another drink! Don't let her stand in your way! Do whatever you have to!_

After letting out a frustrated shout, Falco whirled around and spat, "You're crazy, Katt! You--don't you know how much I need just _one _freaking _drink?"_

Katt didn't reply.

"Could you stop_ looking_ at me like this?! Damn it, Katt! If only you knew!"

"I know enough, Falco! And I love you too much to let you kill yourself."

"Don't talk to me about love, Katt. You should hate me."

"Why?"

"Because I hate _myself!!" _roared Falco in a tremulous voice. "I lied to you. I lied to you about everything! I made excuses so I could go out and drink without letting you know--and some of the other stuff I've done is so bad that I can't even talk to you about it!"

"I don't care, Falco. I don't care about all that. I still love you!" said Katt, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "Please stop drinking and get your life back if only because I love you!"

Somehow, her plea impacted Falco. His face lost its hateful look and took on a look of pity and concern. He felt his girlfriend's terror--a feeling that she tried to mask.

In that split second, Falco saw his chance. All compassion and care fled from his soul, and with all his might, he bounded toward the kitchen.

_"NO!" _cried Katt, hurling a fist into Falco's broad chest. He lost his balance and fell to the floor, disoriented for but a moment. He sprang from the floor and, in an acrobatic leap, somersaulted over the sofa and landed in a sonic run toward the liquor cabinet.

"I'm sorry, Katt!" he yelled, spinning around to face her. He grasped the handle to the cabinet door, the tendons and blood vessels in his arm protruding. "Get out of here! _Now!_"

"Please, Falco! Please! Don't do this!"

"Get out, Katt!" he shouted. "Don't waste your time!"

With a strained grunt and a jerk of his slender arm, he barreled into the cabinet and reached for two bottles--the two strongest liquors he kept. The moment his fingers touched the dense glass, his flaming nerves subsided but a little.

_"A-a-agh!"_

Falco cried out as Katt yanked on his left leg. Before Falco could control his reaction, his other hand, grasping a bottle of alcohol, flew out of control, plowing toward Katt's head at full speed.

There was a deep shattering--followed by a high yelp. The force of the impact hurled Katt to the floor with a nauseating _SMACK. _Shards of glass and droplets of alcohol sprayed across the kitchen in a shimmering cloud. Blood trickled from her lacerated forehead and soaked into her bandanna.

At that moment, darkness fell upon the room. Falco gawked in horror at Katt's sprawled body and began to tremble. The disembodied spout from the destroyed liquor bottle slid out of his unclenching hand.

In a heartbeat, he dropped the other bottle of liquor to the floor and fell to his knees. "Oh, God, what have I done?" he gasped, grasping Katt. He pushed his quaking hands on the back of her lower jaw, searching for a pulse. "Please--please, God--don't let her be dead!"

There was no pulse.

"Katt--?" he sobbed, clutching Katt's bleeding head. "Katt, please forgive me! Answer me!"

She didn't awaken.

Falco plastered his hands to his head and, with what little strength he had left, lifted his head and let out a monstrous _"NO-O-O!!" _He then collapsed by Katt's side and bawled at the top of his lungs. In an instant, his life exploded into view. Five years flashed before him, sickening him to his core. His mind trailed backward, reeling through the memories of his binges. And it hit him.

Without hesitation, the simmering anger inside his heart came to a raging boil. Falco swallowed the bile in his throat and glared in hatred at the bottle sprawled upon the floor.

"I have wasted the past five years of my life for this?!" Falco screamed. "To a--To a damned _chemical!"_

Gasping for breath, Falco tried to form words in the midst of his incoherent hissing. He glared at the bottle in his clenched hand as two words came to mind.

"Damn you."

With those words, he felt a surge of strength course through his veins. He hurled the bottle toward the wall. The container tumbled end over end and shattered with a gigantic smash, sending fragmented glass hurtling every which way.

After a pause, he whirled around toward the cabinet and took each bottle of alcohol into his arms. As soon as he got his grip around all of them, he sped from the kitchen.

Once he entered the bathroom, he flung open the toilet lids and uncorked all ten bottles of his liquor. He then grasped two bottles and emptied them without a second thought. As the liquor drained into the toilet, Falco's eyes screamed hatred and resolve.

Soon, two bottles were emptied. Then the number became four. The chains of his addiction began to snap, two by two. There were two bottles left--the most expensive ones. His heart fluttered at what he squandered. Even the money spent paled in comparison to the time squandered--five years wasted, only to never return.

Falco flipped the last two bottles upside-down, their contents splashing into the toilet with the rest of the alcohol.

"There," he snarled. As he rose, he squared his shoulders and hissed, "This damned addiction doesn't even deserve this kind of goodbye."

He reached for the toilet handle and pressed down on it. As the bowl drained, he snatched up the glass bottles, and sped from the bathroom and out the front door.

Energy rose within him as he turned left and sped toward the balcony overlooking the empty dumpster below. Just as he stopped at the edge of the balcony, he opened his arms and released all ten empty bottles. In the fraction of a second when they hit the dumpster's metal floor, they shattered at once. Shards of glass leapt above the walls, only to fall back inside.

"Katt," Falco mumbled, feeling his stomach churn. In a heartbeat, he spun around and charged back toward his apartment. "Katt! _Katt!"_

Falco blazed through the doorway and froze when he came to the entrance of the kitchen. Katt's eyes held open but a little, only to be hidden once more by her bloodied hand.

"Katt!" Falco cried, collapsing by her side. All care and compassion raced back into him as he scooped her up into his wiry arms. "I'm sorry," he bawled as tears gushed from his eyes. "I'm sorry!"

When he saw her bleeding head, he ripped off his outer T-shirt and put it over the wounds. As he tended to Katt's wounds, he kissed her marred face and spoke life-bringing words to her in the midst of his sobs.

_"Falco!" _

He jolted from his spot and glanced over his shoulder.

_"Falco Lombardi!" _

"I'm in here! Fox, call 911! Katt needs to get to the hospital!"


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11.**_

A slim knuckle tapped the thick door. "Katt?"

As Falco opened the door further, he heard a soft rustling. His heart ached at the sight of Katt turning over in her hospital bed.

"I got rid of it," Falco breathed. "I broke every bottle I had in my apartment. It's gone--and I'm not going back."

Katt turned her head, unable to hide her look of amazement.

"I know you were praying. It worked. Look, I--I can't even begin to say how sorry I am for what I did to you. It was an accident--one that I would undo even if I had to die."

"I know it was," Katt murmured with a tone in her voice.

"Every time I'll think about you, I'll remember what I did and how I lied to you. But I don't want to live like this anymore. I want to move on! Can we do that?" Falco asked, interlacing his fingers. "Can we move forward now?"

With what little calm Katt had left in her voice, she said two words.

"I can't."

In an instant, Falco's mien changed. His hopeful smile fell away to an agape look of shock, and his deep blue eyes clouded over. His body slumped over, aching for any glimmer of hope. In his despair, he managed to gasp one word.

"Why?"

"Because--" A tear rolled down her face and soaked into her pillow. "I can't even look at you without thinking about what you turned into back at your apartment."

"I know, Katt, and--don't think I don't hate myself for it."

"It's a little late to be saying that," Katt murmured. "I'll drop any and all charges against you--only if I never have to see your face again."

"Katt--come on--I--"

"Go! Just _go!"_

Once again, she turned over in bed and hid her face in her pillow. After a moment to sputter, Falco left the room in tears, never looking back at Katt.

Once Falco stepped out of the room, Fox approached him and wrapped his arms around him.

"Oh, Falco," Fox sighed, listening to Falco cry. "You two have to be heartbroken."

Falco whimpered and nodded, sending tears dripping down his beak.

"She was one of your best friends. I'll miss her, too."

Falco pulled himself up from Fox's shoulder and said in disbelief, "It's not her fault. It's what she wants to do."

"Yeah, but--still. You were friends ever since you were babies." He put a hand on Falco's sagging shoulder and said, "Come on, buddy. Your car's parked outside."

And so, the twosome trudged out of the hospital. The afternoon had come, a hot and humid afternoon with slate-gray clouds billowing low in the sky. Fox noted another chance of thunderstorms, but Falco paid no attention.

"You up for driving?" asked Fox, jangling Falco's keys. Falco shook his head and motioned to the car.

"Just wondering," said Fox as he unlocked the car doors. "It's not like piloting a Sky Claw, but it's the closest thing I could think of."

"I don't want to hear about work, Fox," sobbed Falco, walking to the passenger's side of the Lexus. "I'd rather think about what all I _do _have."

Fox nodded, stepping behind the steering wheel. "Good idea."

"Look, where are you taking me?"

"You'll figure it out," replied Fox.

Letting out a weary sigh, Falco leaned his head against his arm and stared out the passenger window. "Why aren't you making me pay for your car? I nearly killed you for it, and now it's a pile of scrap metal."

"That doesn't matter."

For a few moments, Falco stared at the passing scenery. The downtown complex of Corneria City grew smaller and smaller with each second, only to be blocked by trees that flourished in the neighborhoods.

"It's some Alcoholics Anonymous thing, isn't it?" Falco murmured.

"No," said Fox, his tone of voice deliberate and solid.

A half-hour of silence later, Fox steered Falco's car onto Kenai, a street that led straight to a series of apartment complexes.

"You're taking me back to my apartment," he said, snatching a panicked look at Fox's face. Although Fox didn't say anything in reply, his facial expression told Falco enough.

As Fox pulled up to the massive series of two-story apartments, Falco tried to gear up enough nerve to speak against Fox's plans, but Falco kept his beak shut.

Fox and Falco stepped out of the car, the both of them carrying stark opposite appearances. Fox squared his shoulders and strode up the stairs with Falco slouching behind him.

"I don't get it," said Falco, looking confused as he pulled his keys from his pocket. "Why are you taking me back here? I'm not up for having to confront this whole thing."

"Open the door," replied Fox.

"No. No, Fox. I know what this is about. I can't handle this. I won't be able to handle this!"

"That's up to you, Falco. You're not going to shy away from this anymore. You are going to deal with this head-on and make a decision that has to be made."

"Look, Fox, I've lost almost everything that means the most to me--Katt, my job, your trust--but I'm free from getting drunk! Doesn't that mean something?"

Fox geared up to reply, but he hesitated. He folded his arms across his chest and stated, "Falco, I am not here to congratulate you. You don't need that now. You need something more foundational than that. You said you're free from getting drunk. I'm going to help you make sure you _stay_ free. Now, open the door."

Falco complied and turned his head away, trying not to be unnerved by Fox's penetrating gaze. He and Fox entered the apartment, and Fox shut and locked the door behind them. Right away, Falco sensed a tremendous burden as he moved inside his home. The burden oppressed his soul, despite all of the good things he kept trying to think about in vain.

"So, Fox," he sighed, "what's happening now?"

Without a word, Fox pointed a finger down the hall. Falco followed, reluctant and unable to ease himself.

"Go into the bathroom," ordered Fox, his strong voice softening but a little.

Yet again, Falco obeyed. Fox came into the restroom after him and flicked on the lights.

"Okay. We're here. What do you want me to do?"

Fox made a sweeping motion with his right hand and said, "Look in the mirror."

"Oh, jeez."

"Look in the mirror!"

"I--I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I--I can't! I can't handle it! I can't look at myself like this!"

Fox let out a sharp sigh and said, "You see? This is what any kind of addiction does to a person. All day, you've walked around looking like a hunchback! Is this what you want to have hanging over your life? Do you want to live like this?"

"No! _NO! _Do you hear me, Fox?! I _don't!"_ shouted Falco, starting to cry. "I want to look at myself and--and not feel this way!"

"Falco, look in the mirror! Now!"

"Why?!"

"Because it's tearing my heart out watching you live this way!" roared Fox, keeping his trembling voice under control. "You have to see how you look now and get an idea of what five years of alcoholism has _done_ to you!"

Falco stared into Fox's eyes and lost his gall to argue further. He sluggishly turned to look in the mirror, his whole body shaking. When his eyes fell upon his reflection, his heart skipped a beat.

There was no white in his bloodshot eyes, and his once vibrant indigo plumage all over his body bore a shade of sickly bright purple. The deep red plumage surrounding his eyes had brightened into a near pink to match the paleness of his jaundiced beak.

"That's not possible," he whimpered. "That's what everybody's looking at."

"Keep looking," urged Fox as his eyes watered.

Falco glanced down toward his feet and noticed his waist. "I can't believe this," he whimpered. "I can't even remember what I looked like! Do you know how bad I want to go back to the gym and--and get rid of this spare tire?"

Without saying a word, Fox continued to stare at Falco.

"Have I been looking like this for five years? I never even noticed this! I didn't know I was gaining weight or--or anything!"

"Look at me, Falco. You can get that back, and even if you don't, you'll have to remember how much health you lost. But that's not even the most important reason why you should stay away from alcohol. Come on."

Fox exited the restroom and waved to Falco to follow.

"Oh, man," Falco sighed, following Fox down the hall. "I know where this is going."

"No, you don't, because this scene isn't any different."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. No one cleaned it up?"

Stepping aside, Fox said, "Look for yourself."

Falco peered into the kitchen and felt his legs buckle. The shattered glass and puddle of blood shimmered in the sunlight.

"It--it was an accident! She said that to me!"

"You were hung over, Falco. Just imagine the kind of mess you'd be in if you were actually _drunk!"_

Falco opened his mouth to object but found no argument. He stepped back and stared up at the liquor cabinet, replaying the accident in his mind.

"That was the worst moment of my life," he murmured. "I didn't even see it coming; I never planned for it. She grabbed my leg, and I just--reacted. I didn't know she was there until--the bottle hit her." As Falco paused, his face contorted, and he let out an anguished cry.

"I could have killed her!" he bawled, clasping a quivering hand over his trembling mouth. "I had a bottle of booze in each hand, and--the--the noise it made when it hit her--and the noise she made when it--" Falco sobbed and continued, "I'm guilty! I'm the one who--who did this to her! All this wouldn't have happened if I had just said no! God--God, if You aren't ignoring me, please forgive me!"

"Falco--"

"Don't say it, Fox!" ordered Falco, lifting his miserable face from his hands. "Don't say a word, or you could make me change my mind about everything!"

"Falco, settle down and listen!" Fox grabbed him by his slumped shoulders and added, "Falco, I can guarantee that God is not ignoring you. He has been calling out to you all this time! You have no idea about how crazy He is for you!"

Falco sniffled and replied through shallow sobs, "What would He want to do with _me?"_

"This morning, God promised me, 'Fox, I will work miracles on Falco's behalf. I will deliver him from his addiction, and I will restore him and make him stronger than before. He will be whole again.' I know from experience that when He promises something, He always follows through with it."

"That's impossible here. Those doctors know how messed up I am."

"I don't care what the doctors think they know! God is not limited by doctors! Do you hear me, Falco? He is not limited by doctors. He is not limited by _anything! _If you don't believe now, look at your addiction, Falco, and then look at how He helped you break free from it. I'll tell you how He set _me _free from my addiction, and even if you don't believe then, watch as time goes on. You are going to get well. I can swear my entire _life_ on it!"

Falco dabbed his eyes with the collar of his shirt and murmured, "Maybe you'd better explain more about this God thing to me."


	12. Chapter 12

_**Chapter 12.**_

He drove toward the 2700 block of Martis, eyeing the few trees that grew near downtown Corneria City. Their leaves had already turned yellow and orange, and with every gust of wind, they came dislodged from the trees. Falco was thankful to be wearing a coat on this day; dolphin-gray clouds blanketed the sky, and a heavy chill hung in the air. He replayed a conversation from the week before, and he felt encouraged by what he heard and decided to do.

_"Falco, I can't say it enough," stated Fox. "Becoming a Christian is the most fantastic thing you could ever do. I don't even know how to tell you how great it is! But, I don't want to push you into it, because if I do, it won't be for real."_

_"I know," Falco replied. "And--and I want to believe. Maybe I should, but I want to counteract this unbelief, too."_

_"Good! But, remember this, too: You won't be able to live the life God has for you if you don't turn to Him. Salvation is a gift from God--a gift we don't deserve. But, He offers it to us, anyway, and we don't know how much time we have on this earth for us to receive that gift. And even though it's great that you want to study the Bible for yourself, it won't take the place of simply asking Him into your heart."_

_"And if I don't, I'll be thrown into the fires of hell and all that. I told you, Fox, I won't hear that."_

_"No, and I doubt that any of us would want to, but I'm not talking about eternity. I'm talking about today."_

_Falco froze, sending a curious look straight into Fox's eyes. _

_"You know why so many people get so messed up? The fact is, everyone alive has a void in their life. There is an emptiness that leaves people searching for something to fill it with, and when that high is gone, they need more. But it doesn't work! Whatever satisfies a desire today will go away tomorrow. But God isn't like that. He doesn't go away, He doesn't fail--and us? We're so messed up, it's a wonder why God even loves us. And He does. He is the only thing that can fill the void in our lives if we let Him. And God is the God of everything--not just the past and the future, but also the here and now. Something happens when someone accepts Jesus as their Savior. I know it from experience. Life is better--more stable, more satisfying--and even though it's a lot harder, it's worth it. And even though I still have a lot of questions, that's okay."_

Falco stepped outside his car and dropped his keys into his left jeans pocket. He felt his other pocket and breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that his wallet was still there. Once inside the store, Falco opened his wallet and found the coupon inside. He breathed a sigh of relief and walked toward a mass of oak shelves.

_What was the type of Bible that--oh, that's it. New Living Translation._

Right away, Falco spotted a Bible that he liked. It was shielded by a sapphire-blue leather cover with a gold cross in the middle.

_Huh. $22.99? Not a bad price, I guess. Good thing I have that coupon, too._

As he made his way toward the cashier, he glanced at the rest of the store. Everything inside, from the merchandise to the bookshelves and the linoleum floors, was orderly, showing that cleanliness inside the store was first priority.

"Hi! How are you today?" greeted the cashier, her voice energetic and kind. She was an avian with black and red plumage. She wore a deep blue T-shirt and khaki jeans along with a smile that never sagged. The name tag pinned to her shirt said "Robyn."

"Hey," replied Falco with a nod, putting the Bible on the cashier's desk. After a pause, he smiled and said, "I'm actually doing pretty well. Thank you. How about you?"

"I'm doing good. Thanks for asking! Is there anything else I can get for you?"

Falco shook his head and said no. "Oh--uh, I've got a coupon here. 50 off. Glad I got it in today."

Robyn took the coupon in hand and punched in several buttons on the cash register. "This is a good version," she noted as she rang up the Bible.

"Good. My friend said it's easy to read. I thought that since it's my first Bible, I'd better pick something easy."

Robyn nodded and said, "Yeah. Probably not a good idea to get one with all those _thee's _and _thou's _and whatever. They're okay and all, but it's like, 'Why don't you speak English?' Anyway, your total is $12.27."

In response, he paid with his last $20 bill and told Robyn to keep the change. Falco then left the store, saying an earnest goodbye.

Once inside his car, he buckled himself in and opened his new Bible. There were a few lines marked with the words "To," "Date," and "Occasion." He took a blue pen in hand and filled out each line in his best handwriting.

After staring at the inscription for a while, he rested the Bible on the passenger's seat and drove away. On his way down Martis, he approached the bar where he squandered so much precious time. He thought he even saw Murdoc and a few old customers inside. But, he didn't give it a second look or give in to the desire to return. He rode past the bar and headed straight home, joy in his heart and a sense of wonder and discovery rising inside him.

His gaze was homeward bound.


End file.
